


fluorescent adolescent

by swallows (toska)



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: M/M, Modern times, angst overload, in which marius dreamed a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toska/pseuds/swallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras/Marius: in which the best you ever had was just a memory</p>
            </blockquote>





	fluorescent adolescent

**Author's Note:**

> part of the other prompt- drabbles, requested by novas who asked for-
> 
> -“Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character trying to get another to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]
> 
> i have a soft spot for revolutionary boys wanting change and betterment.
> 
> standard disclaimers applied

 

**fluorescent adolescent**

**Enjolras/Marius**

_/The best you ever had_  
 _Is just a memory and those dreams_  
 _Not as daft as they seem_  
 _Not as daft as they seem_  
 _My love when you dream them up_ /

_._

He started having these dreams lately, about him and this boy. Enjolras— in revolutionary driven France, in the heat of what he thinks is a passionate revolution of the people.

He finds himself in love with the war, the fight for betterment, but mainly for this girl.

Enjolras isn’t like that. He’s fueled by the colors of his flag, the embodiment of French Revolutionaries and the color red and smells like gun powders and barricades.

He finds himself chasing after these dreams and that boy, in present day France. (It’s funny how the girl didn’t even cross his mind at all- it’s just  _Enjolras, Enjolras, Enjolras._ )

.

He’s half drunk in an empty bar when he sees him for the first time.

“Do you remember me, old friend?” He slurs, mind hazy, but eyes clear.

There is no response from Enjolras, only the words of mad man. 

. 

It’s half past eight in the morning, when he realizes that he’s living in a waking dream. 19th century France is coming alive before his eyes.

He thinks he’s going mad.

.

He takes a flight out of Paris the day he thinks a young man to be Enjolras. 

Grabbing his arm in desperation, “Please Enjolras! Do you remember me? Please talk to me, tell me about the revolution, tell me about the color red? Please stop haunting me!” And his voice is desperate, and he’s talking to fast and he feels to tired and he just wants his friend back. (And it is getting hard to ignore that voice whispering in the back of his head saying —

 _Oh he was always more than that- wasn’t he?_ )

.

It’s a quarter past three in the morning, and he’s pissed drunk back in the States— singing songs of the revolution with ghosts. 

. 

And truth be told, he’s fucking sick of hearing the people sing. 


End file.
